


In The Closet

by mrs_meloncholy



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: Claustrophobia, Claustrophobic Character, Gen, Light Panic Attack, No Plot/Plotless
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-04
Updated: 2016-10-04
Packaged: 2018-08-19 11:12:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8203859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrs_meloncholy/pseuds/mrs_meloncholy
Summary: A closet so small breeds deep conversation, and the walls come down. Literally and figuratively.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, here I am, posting something not explicitly romantic, look at me growing up guys..  
> So I _finally _found out how to do an em hyphen (if that's what it's called I can't remember), and thus here we are. I've been wanting to do that long hyphen for so long I just always forgot to Google it whenever I had the chance. Anyway, it looks better with the formatting on here, sooooo__
> 
> I hope you like it!!!

Ed gritted his teeth, face screwed up with his eyes shut as the mansion shook violently. He could feel the floor beneath his foot jumping; the walls creaked, trembling around him whilst muffling the distant crashes and explosions with their thin barrier. Structurally speaking, they were in a good spot. The ceiling could cave in, but the small broom closet had sturdy walls, was in the centre of this renovated basement, and was holding up well under the stress.

The only downfall; it was much, _much_ , too small for two grown men, (Mustang would no doubt make a short joke if he said that aloud, so he held off), being just a foot wide, and less deep. Edward's back pressed to the rattling door—having been the one to think quick and shove them both in here—his chest inches from Mustang's.

It was pitch black and dead silent when the violent shaking settled, and only their heavy breaths filled the air. The house had been enormous, easily approaching the size of the Armstrong estate, and the basement they were in was fitting; recently renovated into a laboratory for the esteemed alchemist who lived here. When they showed up to review some of his work—as per request of the alchemist—the guy had started rambling and eventually activated an array that acted as a self destruct for the house.

Ed's characteristic quick thinking landed the two here, alive, but completely trapped.

“Well Fullmetal, you've officially destroyed five estates belonging to admittedly unstable alchemists.” Roy said, sounding slightly breathless yet somehow unperturbed.

Edward glared up at him, barely resisting the urge to kick him in the shin as they would probably be stuck in here with each other for a while, (the second they got out was fair game), “ _Me_? I didn't do fucking shit Mustang! The guy went insane!”

“Your boisterous goading helped considerably,” Roy said, reaching around to test the tight confines of the dusty broom closet, “It's impossible for you to transmute us out of here, isn't it?”

Edward huffed, rolling his eyes. The tight enclosure was already getting to him, but he would never show his… _mild_ claustrophobia in front of the bastard, there was no way Mustang wouldn't use it against him, “No shit. It's hard enough digging yourself out of a pile of dirt with alchemy, but without knowing the make up of everything above you, it's fucking impossible.”

“Not to mention the structural instability,” Roy sighed.

Edward could feel the air thickening, and he stifled a frisson of panic as everything began to close in on him. He could hardly breathe as it was—being pressed up against Mustang as much as he was—with every passing second of feeling the press of the walls all around him, it got harder and harder. He had never had a problem with small places because he had always been so…. average sized, but now he was bigger, (he can't get himself to say tall without a crack of self-pity because 5’5 was _not_ tall).

“We won't have to worry about running out of oxygen at least.” Roy continued, pulling Ed from his thoughts.

“Yeah, guess not.” Was that shake to his voice imagined?

There was a beat of silence before Edward started measuring his breath and counting in prime numbers. He would recite the periodic table, but he's done that so many times he associated it with either panic, embarrassment, or sexual frustration.

The latter of the three was mild at the moment so the periodic table wouldn't save him now. Prime numbers weren't sexy.

 _I can't move an inch—73—I can hardly fucking breathe, oh god—83—fuck fuck fuck! It'll be hours before we can get out of here—89—I'm trapped; can't move, can't run, can't do anything—97—Can't even fucking_ -

“Edward? Are you alright?” Mustang asked, and Edward put his shaking hands behind his back.

“Fine.”

“You're nearly hyperventilating,” Roy stated, unimpressed, “Are you-Oh dear, Fullmetal, are you claustrophobic?”

“No!” Edward snapped, embarrassed and defensive, “No I'm not fucking claustrophobic like some pansy fucking idiot, I just fucking—can't—breathe-”

“Calm down, everything's fine-”

“Shut the fuck up! Everything is not _fine_ ! We're stuck in a fucking broom closet the size of a _coffin_ , buried under a three storey house, unable to move a—fucking—inch because of some-some maniacal alchemist who tried to _kill us_ , and now-now we're going to be s-stuck in here for fucking ever, _fuck_ !” Edward squirmed, fighting for some extra inch of source that didn't exist, hands pushing at the walls, back pressed tightly to the door, both of which made everything _worse_ , “God, _fuck_ , I need outta here, Mustang, I think I'm gonna puke, I can't breathe, shit fuck!”

Hands came to his shoulders, gripping not tightly, but firm, reassuring, “You need to take deeper breaths or you'll pass out, Edward. Everything _is_ fine, we'll be out of here in no time. Quite frankly we owe our lives to this broom closet.”

“Fuck you!” Ed choked out, pushing at Roy’s chest as though to get distance between them, but Mustang didn't—couldn't budge, so Ed just gripped until his knuckles hurt, “ _I_ saved our fucking lives, this closet didn't-didn't do shit.”

“You saved our lives _using_ the closet, and now, I'm going to repay you by making sure you _breathe_ , it's necessary for living, so please take deep breaths.” Mustang said putting his hands over Ed's where they hadn't strayed from the older man's chest.

“Easy for you to fucking say,” Ed griped, trying to breathe low like Al always said to, but his chest stuttered and restricted with a well of panic, “I'm _not_ claustrophobic.”

“Sure, whatever you say, just breathe.”

“I _am_!” Ed snapped, but the puffs of air coming out of his nose just went right back in with his quick breaths, making him lose oxygen, “And don't-don't be a fucking sarcastic bastard. I'm-I'm not claustrophobic, I-I’m-” He heard Mustang snap before his short breaths seemed to actually do something.

“If I wasn't an alchemist, you'd have fainted by now. Take deeper breaths.”

Edward tried valiantly to do as he was told—for the first time in his life—sucking in a shaking breath with his eyes shut tight, “You transmuted straight oxygen in front of me.” He stated, though it was meant to be a question.

“Yes,” Roy answered, “I didn't snap enough to cause a spark otherwise your hair would be on fire.”

Edward swallowed thickly, feeling his clothes sticking to his skin as the closet warmed around him. It made him even more uncomfortable, but it was all getting rather manageable, “You know, you could probably transmute the air already in someone's lungs.” Ed looked up even though it was useless, the darkness was impenetrable.

“Yes, I can.” Roy sounded just a little rough, and Ed leaned his head back on the door.

After a long moment of heavy consideration, he broke the silence, “You're fucking terrifying, you know that?” He said, trying to comprehend just how scary that really was, but it was too much, “Please tell me the military doesn't know you can do that.”

“Of course not, no one does,” Mustang said, and shifted, “Well, until now,”

Edward just made a humming noise, and tried not to think about it. Tried even harder not to think about how he was breathing fine now, and how he could feel Roy's heart beating in a steady pace beneath his right hand. The walls pressing against him was still—annoying, not scary because he wasn't afraid of anything, and certainly not small places. It just pissed him off.

“You're afraid of this closet, but you're not afraid of me.” Roy said, sounding—strange. Off. Maybe a little bit surprised, epiphanic, and sort of relieved. There was no getting anything from the bastard's face, so Ed had long since honed his skill at hearing the subtle hints in his voice.

For half a minute, Ed doesn't know what to say, then the words materialise on the tip of his tongue, “I used to be,” He admitted, voice just a little tight because he's still mad at this closet, “When I saw you fighting that guy, the ice guy Douglas, it just—I don't know. Hit me. I thought it was badass, and then I realised that if you were one of them, fighting on the wrong side, or just really messed up… the world would be in _flames_.”

There was another, only slightly tense pause, and Edward felt himself ignoring the fact he was pretty much in a box trapped underground with ease.

“What changed that?” Roy asked, the words softer than Ed expected, voice deeper, and it took him a second to understand that the tone he was hearing now was _sincerity_. Meaning a handful of things Edward didn't have the capacity to think about right now, (which said a lot).

He had to think again, and the first thing that came to mind made him smile, but he pushed it aside, “That depends,” He took a deep breath for the first time in the past ten minutes, and though the air was thick, it was nice, “There are a lot of moments, if that's what you're asking. Then again, I think I just—grew up that year. A lot.”

“The moments, if you can remember them.”

Edward's smile was bigger now, and he was glad it was so dark to hide it, “You just wanna hear someone talk about you. Your ego doesn't need it, Mustang.”

“I assure you it's nothing of the sort; though I must admit, it's strange how you perceive people, and hearing about myself from you without any insults is even stranger.” Mustang said, the haughty tone bleeding back in.

Edward rolled his eyes, “Did you say ‘you’ as in me specifically, or ‘you’ as in people in general?”

“You specifically.” Roy elaborated.

Edward frowned, wondering if that was an insult, “I'll take that a compliment,” He said instead, and noticed his hands were still gripping the front of Mustang's jacket rather tightly, so he relaxed his fingers slowly and smoothed out the wrinkles, “As far as moments go, it's nothing special, you're boring.”

“I'm not boring, you hyper focus.”

Ed huffed, “Weren't interesting enough for me to ‘hyper focus’ on you,” _Though that was a lie, wasn't it_? “Fine, if you really wanna fucking know—I guess, let me think,” The memory isn't all there, but it only takes a second to remember, and he feels a warm fondness in his chest that he just knows the bastard would see all over his face, “Well, I remember one time, right after your transfer to Central,”

He cleared his throat, feeling a little embarrassed that he even remembered this, “I was in the office for some reason, and Fuery freaked out because of a huge wolf spider. The others freaked too, Havoc just about puked, Breda was fucking squealing, and before Hawkeye could shoot it you just—walked out with a cup and a piece of paper and didn't even put it out the window, you walked all the way through the command centre to put it in the grass. Guess it's the whole ‘wouldn't hurt a fly’ thing, y’know? Except you wouldn't even hurt a spider.” Ed shifted, knowing there's no way that that was what Roy had been expecting, but that was what he remembered the quickest.

After yet another moment of silence, Ed's embarrassment doubled, and he wondered if remembering something like that was revealing. Would Mustang hear the bit of pride his voice? Or would he just hear that his kid subordinate remembered weird things he's done?

“I think I remember that,” Mustang said, “Considering Hawkeye has shot spiders in the office before, it's unsurprising.”

Ed's surprised that that's all he has to say, but is relieved as well, “Yeah.” He said, without anything else to say.

“I'm actually quite afraid of spiders,” Mustang said lightly, conversationally, “I avoid killing them in a last ditch attempt to get in their good side.”

Edward snorts into laughter, “You're a fucking dork, Mustang,” Ed laughs, surprised at how easy that is at the moment, how easy everything is, and maybe that's Roy's fault, “How are you such a fucking nerd still?”

“What's that supposed to mean? Besides the fact that I am neither a dork nor a nerd.”

Ed laughs a little bit more, before sighing to calm down, “That shit just shouldn't last, y’know? They don't want someone like you, Mustang. They want the kid with the magnifying glass, not the butterfly net. How is it a dork like you has gotten this far?”

“Holding a fake magnifying glass while admiring the ants.”

Ed smiles and fiddles with a button on Roy's jacket. His skin is still crawling, there's still sharp panic in his chest, but he's better than some dumb fucking closet, and breathes steadily and slowly, “Guess a dangerous dork has to sit at the top. You're getting closer.”

“Not close enough.”

**Author's Note:**

> If I handled the claustrophobia thing badly please tell me because I'm only a little claustrophobic so this was kinda a stretch. 
> 
> I don't know why but Ed is always a claustrophobe in my head??? Why.
> 
> Anyway thanks for reading!!!
> 
> P.S I wrote this completely on my tablet using the Google docs app so if there are errors please lemme know


End file.
